


Following the Rules

by ImpalaDreams (impaladreams)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, F/M, M/M, Threesome - F/M/M, dub con, wincest more implied but there will be some contact
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impaladreams/pseuds/ImpalaDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane is really good at shoplifting, killing ghosts and hiding her attraction to the Winchester brothers. They all get a little more than they bargained for while working their latest case though and Jane wonders how long she can keep following her own rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely set during season 4.

The dream faded slowly. The breathless murmurs of dirty phrases in her ear became pieces of clipped, quiet conversation from the front seat. The ebb and flow of her body against theirs became gentle rocking of her dead weight in the backseat of the Impala as it sped down another highway. She kept her eyes closed for the moment and focused on the sounds from the front seat as the dream slipped from her consciousness. 

"This exit?" came the gruff voice from the driver's seat.

"No, 24, the next one," was the softer reply from the passenger seat. 

Jane felt a lonely sadness overwhelm her. It'd been a long time since she had a co-pilot to help her navigate America's highways. She wished she could let them know how lucky they were to have each other. Or how lucky she felt to have them around. That was against the rules though. She didn't form emotional attachments. Especially not with other hunters. Usually she didn't even hunt with a group. When she showed up in the same town as Dean and Sam to investigate a routine haunting they formed an easy team. On their first day in town, she lifted a watch off the house they were investigating. Truthfully, at the time, she didn't know it belonged to the grandfather of the victim and was actually responsible for bringing back his ghost. But it was sure handy when it turned out to be. 

When they caught up with her at the town bus stop about to leave and asked if she was interested in tackling a vampire nest with them a state over, she had said yes. She told herself it was the lure of the hunt that had compelled her, but as she settled into the backseat and shared her five-finger-discounted candy bars she felt an easy camaraderie that was undeniable. 

That'd been about three weeks ago and she was still crisscrossing the country with them, fighting monsters, ghosts, sometimes each other. As much as she hated to see the tension between the pair, she knew they were still lucky to have each other. Rather than no one. 

"Here, this exit. Head north," Sam said to Dean and she felt the Impala glide and slow toward the exit. Sam's voice was warm and thick, like a blanket she just wanted to cuddle with. She felt another pang of loneliness and considered asking him to come cuddle her in the backseat. He was all puppy dog eyes and big, strong arms, and she knew it'd feel nice to be wrapped up in his comfort. She imagined him holding her close from behind, burying his head against her neck as she sleepily whispered, "Sammy" to him. She laughed in her mind at the utter ridiculousness of the thought. Dean would never let them live that down. 

She felt she could be playful, familiar with Sam to a certain extent. Not that she always was, but that she could be. It didn't present any immediate threat. It wasn't serious. But Dean? Dean was magnetic. He was like a broken, bleeding heart wrapped in colored cellophane. Beautiful but potentially messy. She could see the heartbreak in him, constant and always running just below the surface. She knew he could see hers too but they never talked about it. It was against her rules. 

She let her eyes peak open and was surprised to find it still looked like early morning. Poor Dean had definitely driven through the night given how drunk Sam and she were when they left. She had enjoyed the sleep though even if it was alcohol induced and mentally thanked him for driving the whole distance. She turned on her back and stretched, awakening her muscles that were tight and cramped from the awkward sleeping position. 

"Look who's up," Dean said, catching her movements out of the corner of his eye. She felt his eyes rake over her as she twisted and arched against the back seat of his car. 

She sat up and draped her arms over the front seat so she was near the boys. "Are we almost there?" she asked, looking at Sam.

He scrunched up his face and exhaled with a disgusted noise as she posed her question. "Yes," he responded, laughing and pushing her face in the opposite direction with an open palm as he answered. "Please don't breathe on me with that demon breath!" 

"Oh please, you were both ready to make out with me last night after a bottle of whiskey," she teased. She glanced down at floor of the car, frowning to find the bottle empty now. 

"Yeah, and when I did, your breath was not as rank as it is now," Dean laughed. 

Oh yeah. That had happened. That was definitely against the rules. There was only so much whiskey and flirtatious smiles she could take before she caved though. It had been quick. A momentary lapse of judgment that brought their lips and tongues crashing together while they loaded up the Impala's trunk, Sam distracted and spinning in his whiskey haze in the front seat. 

"Touche, Winchester," she conceded. "Do you have any water?"

He grabbed a half consumed bottle from a cup holder and passed it to her, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. She knew he was remembering seeking out her tongue with his own and the way his fingertips dug into her hips like they were trying to take hold and never let go. 

It was a momentary lapse she reiterated in her mind. She wasn't going to let it happen again. Especially not with Dean. She sat back in her seat and gulped down the water, cleansing her palate from the post-whiskey morning breath stink and Dean Winchester's tongue. Her eyes caught his watching her intently, roaming over her throat as she swallowed several mouthfuls of the room temperature liquid with her head thrown back. He flicked his eyes back to the road when he caught her staring back in the mirror. 

"So, forgive me if my memories of last night are a bit...hazy," she said. "What exactly are we hunting again?"

Sam turned in his seat to face her and put on his serious expression. "Not quite sure yet. But there have been three violent murders at this motel in the past two weeks." 

"Yeah, okay, and maybe they're just in a bad part of town?" she replied.

"Well that's where it gets weird. All of them were killed by their partner in the middle of, um, doing it. All of the partners claim that they were just doing what the victims wanted." he stated somewhat awkwardly, searching her face for any sign of recognition. 

"So what, boyfriend chops his girlfriend's head off in a fit of coital bliss and she wanted it?" she inquired, confusion evident in her question. 

"Not exactly," Dean responded, his eyes glancing over to Sam, silently asking him to finish his thoughts. 

Sam sighed. "More like, boyfriend gags girlfriend while getting head and actually suffocates her. Um, another was a prostitute with a john. He was into erotic asphyxiation and she claims he wanted to be choked to death. And...."

Sam looked away out the window and she knew he was holding back the worst of it. "And what?" she probed, sitting forward slightly and looking back and forth between the boys who were most definitely avoiding her gaze. 

"The victim was... her boyfriend was... they were..." Sam tried to find the words. 

"He was eating her, said she wanted to be devoured, he obliged," Dean said curtly.

"Wait so he started to actually EAT her while..."

"Yup," he said quickly before shutting up again. She knew he was done with this conversation.

"Most of her lower abdomen was gone by the time he...realized," Sam said quietly. 

The trio were silent for a moment while the information and images twisted around their brains. 

"So what do you think we're looking at? Vengeful spirit who doesn't like the hanky panky? Demonic possession? Witches working some seriously twisted love spell?" she rambled off. She hadn't heard of anything like this before but given the graphic and violent nature of the crimes, she had to believe something foul was at play. 

Sam shrugged. "I agree it could be any of those." She nodded. "But I think we need some more information to narrow it down."

"Agreed," said Dean in his low voice from the driver side. "But first, breakfast." He smiled as he pulled up next to the diner and parked his car. 

The three of them exited the vehicle and for a moment they were all preoccupied stretching their limbs. She tried to ignore the way the muscles of Sam's back looked twisting under the flimsy material of his t-shirt and the way Dean's sweater rode up when he stretched his arms above his head exposing the curve of a chiseled hip. And she definitely didn't check out their asses as she followed them into the diner. 

She sighed. Booth seating. Booths had become her sworn enemy over the past three weeks. She hated booths with even more vitriol than the werewolf they'd spent the last week tracking. She could sit next to Sam and spend the meal trying not to make eyes with or flirt back with Dean. Or she could sit next to Dean and try to ignore the way their thighs pressed perfectly together. Today she chose next to him. Their kiss from last night was still fresh in both their minds and it was for the best if she didn't have to look at his lips more than she needed to. She would not let that happen again. 

Coffee and cheap greasy diner food was soon distributed to them and she was able to ignore the distractions long enough to enjoy her breakfast. She only briefly let herself admire the way Sam's long fingers wrapped around the creamy white ceramic of his coffee mug before pushing the image from her mind. She might have noticed him smirking as he raised the cup to his lips but she was certain that had nothing to do with her. 

Over breakfast they divided up responsibilities for the day. Once they checked into the motel, Sam and Dean were going to pose as FBI investigators and question the survivng attackers. She would search the motel for clues. And cash. It wasn't expressly stated but she knew that's why she was assigned the job of snoop. She didn't hustle pool or run credit card scams so that was her way of pulling her weight. And she knew the brothers appreciated her skills not just because of the complimentary candy bars but also because it freed up more of their time to hunt instead of running their next scam. 

Once the bacon had been devoured and the last dregs of coffee drained, they piled back into the car to drive the short distance to where they'd be staying. Dean parked the Impala halfway down the row of rooms, a short distance to the motel office. "Looks normal enough from the outside," Sam said. 

"Mountain Canyon Motel," said Dean reading the sign. "You can check out any time you want but you can never leave...because our ghosts kill you with sex." 

"Wait. This is the motel? And we're STAYING here?" she asked. Sam shot a sideways glance at Dean before exiting the car. She heard him begin rummaging around in the trunk and she turned to face Dean, whose job it clearly was to address this with her based off Sam's look. "Do you really think this is smart?" she asked him. 

"Ground zero? Probably not. But you know it's the quickest way to suss out what we're dealing with," he sighed. She glared at him, then at the motel, then back to him. "Listen, I think you should stay with us. For your safety."

She laughed. Riotous mirth rose from her throat before she could even stop it. "Oh is that what this is about? No way, Winchester. Only in your dreams." Her mind flicked back to her own filthy dreams from last night. Or maybe hers. Either way, those ideas would remain firmly locked in her dreams. He caught her glance and gave her an amused and slightly confused look. "I'll take my chances with the kinky ghost, thanks," she added before exiting the car and joining Sam to pull her belongings from the trunk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group begins to investigate the murders at the hotel and Jane ignores her affection for Dean, instead focusing on his attractive little brother.

Jane grabbed her duffel bag from the Impala's trunk and followed Sam to the motel office. She gripped the faded green handles of the canvas cargo bag and felt the weight of all her possessions pull her arm down. Most of her worldly belongings and all her essentials were in this bag. Some clothes, a hair dryer (one of the few luxuries she lugged around), bag of rock salt, sawed off shotgun and her prized possession, a long silver plated blade. That one hadn't been easy to steal. She placed the bag on the ground and sighed staring at it as Sam requested a room for him and Dean in front of her. Her whole life, everything she was and stood for, wrapped up in an old army surplus store duffel bag. It was pathetic. She turned glanced out the window and admired the shiny black gleam of Dean's Impala. At least the boys had the car. Some place to keep their stuff. A makeshift home for them. All Jane knew was the familiar loneliness of yet another motel room. Outside she saw Dean exit the car and rub his eyes blearily. She watched him rub his face and his shoulders slump before his head disappeared into the trunk. She wished she could ease his pain, wherever it came from, whatever was eating at him, just a little.

That was a slippery slope. All they needed was to get all sappy and spill their back stories to each other. No, that would lead to them getting emotional, making mistakes, getting hurt. They had a hunt to focus on right now and whatever was slowly eating away at Dean, and her, would just have to keep gnawing at them.

She paid for her room, two nights up front to start. It was all she could afford at the moment and besides, she didn't like staying at a potentially haunted motel. Hopefully it would be an easy dig and burn case and they'd be back on the road in no time. When she returned to the car, Sam and Dean were shifting from foot to foot and clearly concealing shotguns under their jackets. She followed suit as they walked towards their rooms.

"We'll check ours out first and then make sure your room is clear," said Dean, looking seriously as he readied his gun and poised the key by the lock.

Jane scoffed. "Are you serious with this? I'm a big girl. I can check my own room."

She walked away ignoring Dean's cries of, "Jane....Jane!" that only ceased when Sam reasoned, "C'mon she'll be fine. It's right next door so we'll hear if anything goes down." She watched the boys disappear into their room and followed their lead. She opened the door and moved inside, bringing out the shotgun loaded with rock salt. Her eyes swept the room as she moved across it, feeling for cold spots as she went. She flicked the light on in the bathroom, happy when they didn't flicker back at her. She then proceeded to check every drawer and hiding place in the motel room for hex bags. The dresser was empty, there was nothing in or under the bed, chair cushions empty and she couldn't see any recent patching to the wallpaper that would suggest anything was hidden in the walls. Satisfied, she got down to the real matters at hand. Brushing her teeth and coming up with a game plan to check out each of the rooms today. 

Jane got ready, putting on a pair of short-shorts and a shirt that showed off an ample amount of cleavage. It wasn't quite cold out yet and the town was warm but she still felt a bit of a shiver as she walked to the Winchesters' door. Her gun was hidden in the coat she was carrying though and she didn't want to make it obvious so she left it off. She knocked and Dean quickly answered, leaning against the door frame as his eyes traveled down her body, lingering on her chest before combing the expanse of her long, tanned legs. "Hello, sweetheart," he said cockily.

"Really, Dean? Have gun. Will fire." He put his hands up in mock surrender and backed into the hotel room, admitting her in as well. "Ready to go, Sammy?" he asked. "Jane is judging by the length of her shorts," he snickered. 

Her eyes shot daggers into Dean and then traveled over to Sam who was just finishing knotting his tie of his fake FBI suit. "Just about," he drawled. "And you look great, Jane. If I was that teenage boy in the motel office, I'd give you whatever you wanted." She shot a victoriously smug look to Dean and saw him give a mock sneer behind his brothers back as Sam made his way to the door. They exited and she watched them approach the Impala. "Have a good day at work, sweetie!" she called and waved. They both looked up to see who she was talking to at the same time. "You too, honey!" she added, laughing, then turned to head to the motel office.

Getting the skeleton key to the motel was easy enough. The teen was easily persuaded by her charms. When she leaned in to kiss him long enough to distract him and give her a chance to swipe the key from its cork-board home, she only felt mildly repulsed. When she tucked the steal into her back pocket and pulled away with a slight smile it was not because of him though. Rather, it was the distinct memories of kissing Dean that brought the smirk to her lips. He was a much better kisser than the scrawny bag of hormones in front of her.

That evening she sat waiting for the Impala to return. When she saw their headlights she gave them a few minutes until she could hear them moving around in the room next to her. She collected a few items and then knocked on the door. Sam answered this time and let her in, retreating to the bathroom briefly to change out of his suit. Dean was on the far bed and glanced his tired eyes over her as she entered. "You changed," he frowned as he loosened his tie.

"Yeah, well, I'll start dressing like Daisy Duke when you start driving General Lee," she countered, unabashedly returning the grin he gave at her reference. "Besides, I have something better. I got booze," she said pulling out a bottle of whiskey from the bag next to her. She had already put a considerable dent in the liquid but poured herself another into the plastic cups she ransacked from the housekeeping closet.

"You are a saint," Dean said, taking a hearty swill.

Sam emerged from the bathroom back in normal street clothes. "You want some?" she asked, taking a seat at the table next to him where he was set up with his books and laptop.

He shook his head. "No. Thanks." And turned his attention to the computer.

"I'll have his!" Dean called from across the room. She gave herself another large pour before tossing the bottle his way.

"So I didn't find anything today," she reported. "No cold spots, or EMF, or sulfur, or hex bags. Not even in the rooms sealed off as crime scenes. None of the guests seem weird either. Found some cash but, uh, no satanic paraphernalia."

"Great, I'm glad we're not the only ones who completely wasted their day." Dean loudly slammed the bottle of amber liquid on the night table between the beds and ran his hands over his face. Exhaustion. Frustration. Anger. All evident and boiling away internally.

Jane focused her attention back to Sam and watched his hands glide over the keyboard and mousepad, busily searching for their answers. "So it didn't go well today?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, pausing to run his hands through his hair and she watched his long fingers rake through his brown locks. She distracted herself with a few long sips of whiskey. "Didn't learn much new. All of them remember the killing and no reports of black smoke so it's probably not a demon. Nothing ties them all together except this motel but you didn't find anything strange," he sighed looking at her with a pained expression as if he was trying to will some clues into existence.

"So all we have to go off of is what they felt. An overwhelming desire to please and consume." Dean finished explaining as he rose and brought the bottle to their table to refill Jane's glass.

They took a sip at the same time and she tried to ignore the obvious parallel, instead focusing again on the younger Winchester. His hands were back at the laptop and she watched his fingers deftly traverse the keys. She tried to ignore the thoughts but couldn't help but think of them pressing into her skin as he held her with his strong arms. She desperately tried to distract herself. "Okay, so is there any sort of monster who likes to influence people to kill mid-fuck? Like a coitus interruptus goblin or some shit?" Dean gave a riotous laugh from the bed at her description and she knew the alcohol was having an effect.

"Not that I know of," Sam said shaking his head. "But who knows. I'm researching now," he gestured, pointing to the screen.

Jane nodded absently, staring at his extended finger. She glanced back to the bed where Dean was channel surfing and idly sipping his whiskey, his eyes red with exhaustion. She felt drawn to him but pushed the thought from her mind instead concentrated on Sam again. His finger was gently tapping the down button of the keys as his eyes scanned the page. She indulged herself and let the last of her mental inhibitions drop, thinking about him pressing those long fingers into her. She sat back in the chair, legs parting ever so slightly and fantasized about him tracing his way through her wetness, teasing her clit. She saw his eyes flash over to her quickly, brows furrowed in frustration as he tried to figure out what they were fighting here. She wished she could make it more enjoyable. She imagined his fingers pressing inside her and her thrusting down onto his hand as he curled them into her gspot. Sam cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Listen, I don't know if we'll have anything else tonight," he admitted, somewhat curtly and looking at her expectantly.

She knew an exit line when she heard one. She nodded at his statement, hiding the disappointment she felt at having to return to her own empty room. "Nooo, staaay," she heard Dean whine from the bed.

She sighed standing. "You can keep the bottle, Dean. It's just the start of the cache I picked up today." He smiled warmly at her and she could see relief evident in his face. "Get some sleep." She watched the pained expression creep back onto his face as he swigged directly from the bottle.

Sam turned to her as she opened the door to leave. "If you need something, anything, just give a shout okay? We'll hear you."

"Sure," she smiled softly, hiding her internal monologue. _Want to come fingerbang me and then cuddle?_ Sam's eyes widened and he turned back to his research as she left, retreating to her own room. She changed into an over-sized t-shirt and a pair of underwear and climbed into bed. She produced another full bottle of whiskey and enjoyed the way it burned her throat while she sipped it and channeled surfed. She tried not to think about Dean doing the same in just the next room, or how nice it would be for them to drink themselves to sleep together. Eventually the thoughts faded, so did the sound of the tv and she drifted to sleep.

Jane awoke with a start in the middle of the night. The room swirled and blurred with the lingering effects of the whiskey but she focused long enough to see the faint flicker of the exterior light outside the motel window. She climbed out of bed grabbed the gun from the floor beside it. Then when she saw a shadow pass by the window, she took the safety off and moved closer to the door. A faint knock came. That was weird. Ghosts usually weren't ones for knocking. She cursed the lack of peephole on the door and felt her heart start to pound in her chest, adrenaline taking over. Acting on instinct she place the shotgun against the door and cracked it slightly. She exhaled. "Sam..." he stood there seriously, his own shotgun in hand. "I almost pumped you full of rock salt," she chastised, relaxing and opening the door fully, moving back into the room, him following closely behind her.

"I saw the lights flickering outside. Everything okay?" he asked softly, scanning her room in the dark, the only light permeating from the thinly veiled window. The light was still again though and the flickers seemed to be gone.

"Yeah, I woke up too but didn't appear to be anything." She put the safety back on her gun and burrowed under the covers of her bed, mentally cursing the ungodly hour. She was exhausted.

Sam stood there, looming over her in the darkness, his shadow consuming her. He looked troubled, eyes glancing from the door to her then back to the door. "Can...can I stay?" he asked sheepishly.

"Sam..." she turned her face up to look at him, "that breaks all the rules."

"No, I...can we just," he seemed to grapple with his wants, "can I just hold you?" She sighed and tried to push the thoughts she had this morning, about wanting to feel his strong arms around her, from her mind but it was futile. "Please?" he asked again sounding grieved and looking like he might cry if she didn't concede.

"Fine," she groaned, not caring as long as she could savor the last of her whiskey drunk and slip back into a dreamless sleep. He was crawling into bed next to her a moment later, his sizable frame pressing against her in the darkness. He wrapped an arm over her waist and pulled her closer, lifting her up to slide his other arm under her, circling her in muscular warmth. She sighed, feeling a long lost sense of security overwhelm her. Sam seemed to melt into her as well, and she smiled feeling his long hair tickle her as he nestled against the crook of her neck. She grazed her cheek against the muscle supporting her head, pausing before letting her lips brush the skin. Behind her she could feel him doing the same to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Not kissing, just lightly skimming across her skin, making goosebumps rise and a shiver creep up her neck. At her waist she felt his fingers beginning to rub circles over her hip bone, traveling painstakingly slow down to the spot where her hip creased her thigh. "Sam..." she breathed.

"It's okay, I'm here," he answered, fingers tracing across the top line of her underwear.

She fought back a laugh. "I can feel that. What are you doing?"

He pressed a kiss to the base of her neck and held her tighter in his strong arms. "Let me make you feel good. Please? I just want to..." he moved his fingers lower pressing against her through her underwear. "I want to feel you with my hands. Just let me hold you, make you come, make you feel good," he breathed out, pressing into her so her wetness, undeniable at this point, began to soak through her panties. "I need this," he begged, "as much as you do." His fingers found her clit through the thin material and she couldn't help but let a soft moan escape her lips. She felt like she had a fire burning in the pit of her groin and right now, only Sam could put it out. She gave in, to the lust and longing she'd been feeling, and granted him permission by spreading her legs.

He took the invitation, sliding her panties down and off of her, tucking them away somewhere, before returning his hand to the heat between her legs. She gasped, feeling his long fingers sliding over her wetness and spreading the folds of her pussy. He worked slowly, trailing his fingers over her and slicking them in her wetness before teasing her clit awake. She felt herself grow even more aroused as he began to work the sensitive bud of flesh, fingertips pressing into it and rubbing quick, deft circles that made her legs start to shake with pleasure. It'd been a long time since she experienced that kind of contact and she gave herself over to it, moving her top leg to wrap around his hip and open herself up to him. "That's it," he breathed in her ear, rubbing her harder and faster as she began to buck against him. He continued to press kisses against her neck and she twisted an arm up and around his head, running her hands through his soft hair and holding him there, enjoying the way his lips and tongue danced across her flesh. His hands suddenly switched movements, fingers flicking her clit back and forth, and she gasped in surprise iand pleasure, moaning his name as she felt her orgasm begin to peak. She shuddered against him, letting go as he nipped her ear, and bucking up into his hand. "Yesss," he drawled out, "come for me." He kept his actions steady and held her still in his strong arms as she twisted her head to moan into his bicep under her head. When her orgasm began to subside he relented on her clit, spreading her wet folds apart before thrusting two fingers inside of her.

She moaned loudly in response, adjusting to the feel and admiring the way just two of his fingers could fill and stretch her. "Your hands..." she moaned as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her. She pressed he hips against him, keeping time as he worked his fingers inside her.

"All I could think about today was finger fucking you," he whispered dirtily into her ear making her moan again. He could feel her starting to clench and knew another orgasm was building. "And doing this," he said as he twisted his fingers up and into her gspot as he pressed his palm, rough like a hunter's should be, down into her clit.

"Yes, oh my god, right there," she moaned feeling the pressure in her groin building even more than the last time. "Oh God, Sam, Sam, Sam," she moaned, chanting his name.

"I'm right here," he breathed.

"Sam," she moaned again hips starting to buck against him again.

"Let me make you feel good," he whispered, licking up her neck.

"Sam, S-s-shhhit," she stuttered out, breath hitching in her throat as his fingered danced inside her and palm pressed even more firmly against her clit.

"I got you. Call me...Sammy," he breathed into her ear, tightening his hold around her.

She groaned one last, long time, as another orgasm overtook her and she fucked herself onto his hand. "Sammy," she moaned softly as he let her ride out her climax against his hand.

His fingers stayed twisted inside her as she came down and her breathing returned to normal. She felt sleepy, satisfied, still a little drunk maybe. When he did remove his hand, they weren't demanding or sexual, as he simply wrapped his arms firmly around her again and held her close to him, leaving tiny kisses against her neck. He nuzzled in and she could feel herself drifting back to sleep, lulled back to slumber by her sated libido and his heavy breathing in her ear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane begins to realize her dreams and reality are colliding and the group share a tense morning.

Jane awoke with a start again the next morning. Her first realization was that she wasn't wearing underwear. The second was that Sam was not there. And the third was that the motel door was still chained shut. She hadn't woken up to re-lock the door from the inside and there was no way he could have done that after leaving. It had all been a dream. A very vivid and satisfying dream, but there's no way it could have been real. Besides, leaving in the night didn't really seem like Sam's style. Maybe from Dean but not Sam. And the whole, "Call me Sammy" thing was ridiculous, straight out of her bizarre daydreams from the previous day. Still, she felt a bit odd and climbed out of bed for a shower.

When she was clean and clothed, she checked the time and figured the boys would probably be up by now. She knocked on their motel door and Sam greeted her brusquely. "You. Good, get in here. I want to talk to you," he said, pulling her in and shutting the door behind her. She could hear the shower running and figured that's where the older Winchester was. She tried to avoid eye contact with Sam, the memory of last night's dream creeping into her thoughts and causing a slight embarrassment to overtake her. "Have any _weird_ dreams last night?" he asked her, tilting his head and making her catch his gaze.

"What do you mean?" She tried to play it cool but he gave her a look, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows, that told her he knew she was lying.

"Yeah..." he reached a hand into his jacket and pulled out her underwear. The same ones she had worn to bed the night before.

She was taken aback and grabbed them out of his hand. "How did you get those?" she asked sharply, shoving them into the pocket of her own jacket.

"Do you really not remember?" he asked leveling with her.

She shook her head and squinted at him. "No. No, that was just a dream." she argued. "My door was still chained this morning when I woke up. If you were there and left then it would have been unchained."

"Are you sure? Because I feel like something is fucking with us," Sam admitted, frowning at his poor choice of words. "And I mean, it's not that I didn't like it. I really did, trust me, but...well, I dunno, it felt a little...forced."

"Right, I made you crawl in bed with me?" she countered accusingly, not believing what he was trying to sell her.

"No, I'm not saying that. I mean, I don't know what came over me. It's just that I'm sort of seeing someone and well, I mean, your..." he looked at the bathroom door.

"Dean," she said suddenly. "Please don't tell him," she begged.

Sam looked at her with a pained expression. "If it's relevant to the case, I have to Janie," he said softly.

"No, no, he can't know. Not until we at least figure out what's causing it so I can explain." It's not like she owed Dean anything but hell, even Sam could tell that there was something building between the two. This was clearly a violation in some way and they both felt it deep down. "Listen, we're clearly not in any immediate danger right now. Let's just keep our hands off each other and figure out what we're dealing with and then we'll tell him." The pipes creaked from the bathroom and they heard the water shut off. Jane knew she only had a few moments to convince Sam who was looking very conflicted at the moment. "Please don't tell him?" she whispered.

"Fine..." he breathed out

"Thank you," she replied, looking relieved.

"Thanks for what?" asked Dean coming out of the bathroom. He had a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and she could see missed water droplets still running down his chest and disappearing into the white, terry cloth material slung loosely around his middle.

She tore her eyes away to meet Sam's who was giving her a stern look. She knew asking him to lie to Dean, even by omission, was a hefty request. "For driving me to the library," she answered, still not looking at Dean. "I just have to grab a few things and then I'll be ready to go."

She made for the door but still heard Dean laugh out, "Alright, nerd," as she left.

Retreating into her room, she tried to compose her thoughts. The incident with Sam had been a mistake, for sure. She couldn't help but think about how their whole interaction had been more or less a play by play of her fantasy. She disregarded it as his intuition or their obvious compatibility. She tried to shake the feeling and instead focused her thoughts on Dean as she collected a few notes and books to bring with her. He had looked nice in that towel and the hot shower had flushed his complexion in a way that made her just want to touch every inch of his skin. She smiled, thinking about it and how nice it was to be close to him, like their kiss and how amazing it'd felt to have his lips finally pressed against hers. She was torn out her reverie by shouting in the room next door. Her immediate instinct was to arm herself and make for the door but she paused, realizing it was Sam and Dean fighting.

"What, so you're just going to pussy out make me do all the work?" Sam shouted.

"Yeah, well, maybe I just don't feel like looking at mutilated bodies today, okay?" Dean screamed back.

The morgue. Sam had been in his suit and she knew the plan was for them to inspect the corpses today.

"I'm sorry, okay, I"m sorry for what you went through," she heard Sam yell, still loud but somewhat gentler than his previous outburst had been. "But I never asked for it and you can't take it out on me."

There was silence and then a slamming door and she knew one of them had stormed out. She crept near the window and peaked out of the curtain in time to see Dean, still dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, unlocking the Impala and climbing into the driver's seat. She took a breath and gathered her belongings before heading out to the car to join him. Sam was still biding his time inside the motel and she knew he was probably calming his temper before rejoining his brother. Or her. She wasn't sure which and wished that this wasn't quickly devolving into a sticky situation. She slinked into the backseat quietly, not knowing how to address the older brother. He paid her little attention as one of his hands groped the inner pocket of his jacket. He produced a flask which he drank several long gulps of. "You okay?" she finally ventured, looking up to meet his eyes in the rear view mirror that flashed to her in the backseat. How many car rides had they made the same eye contact? Whether it was a teasing dig that one of them had made at Sam or an offhand comment that caught the other's attention. They always had some sort of stolen intimacy between them.

"Fine," he answered curtly, replacing the flask in his pocket as the motel door opened and Sam strode out, making his way to the Impala.

The ride to the library was quiet and tense. Jane was relieved to get out of the car and made a quick exit, heading swiftly to the doors. Behind her she heard a low whistle from the car that was clearly meant to catch her attention and turned back to face them. "Give me a call when you're done," Dean called to her. "I'll come pick you up." Next to him Sam was looking annoyed at his brother and she wished she could escape without taking what felt like a side in their argument. She looked to Dean, nodded and waved, and tried to ignore Sam's glares as the drove away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Jane ignore the case for a while and focus on each other instead.

Jane spent the better part of the morning in town. She poured over book after book of anything she could find in the suburban library from lore tales to biblical texts to a few really weird websites. Still, she didn't come across any sort of monster that made fantasies a reality or caused them to go bad, so to speak. She wondered to what degree the tensions this morning were genuine and how much was due to whatever bad mojo Sam and she had picked up. And what was with Dean not wanting to go to the morgue? He was around dead bodies all the time! She shook her head and sat back away from the pile of open books on the desk, rubbing her eyes a bit.

She was distracted, agitated, and annoyed that she couldn't figure out what they were fighting. She decided to pack it in and head back to the motel. Maybe Sam would be there with a clue from examining the corpses.

She walked outside of the library and enjoyed the way the sun warmed her skin in the early Autumn air. She put her jacket on over her t-shirt and slung her mostly empty messenger bag across her body. The air was crisp and the weather mild so she decided to walk the couple of miles back to the motel.

She tried to clear her mind on the walk but was finding it difficult. Memories from the previous night kept flooding her consciousness and she pushed the thoughts of Sam and his muscles, and his fingers from her mind. When she did though, she could only think of the older Winchester and wondered what had left him so broken and raw and drowning in beautiful heartbreak that she had to admit looked good on him. She stuffed those thoughts way down where she couldn't get at them. That was a quick way to break even more of her own rules. Her mind circled back to what they were fighting, her evolving theories and things that were even scarier than her attraction to the Winchester brothers. It was a crazy circle of things she did not want to confront.

When she passed the liquor store she couldn't help but wander in. She knew there was plenty of whiskey back in her room, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy something on the hike home. She made her way to the counter, familiar with the store she had visited yesterday. There were a large selection of mini bottled nips and premixed shots lining the counter top and she began to pick out a few fruity options and placed them on the counter. Her eyes glanced over a new display featuring knockoff Zippos and she smiled at the one with AC/DC engraved across it. "Anything else?" the cashier asked giving a sigh that was steeped in apathetic boredom.

Jane eyed the cigarettes lining the back wall. "Yeah, let me get a pack of Marlboro Reds," she said, nodding behind him. When he turned to retrieve them she grabbed the lighter and quickly pocketed it. The attendant turned around to face her, pack in hand. "Actually, never mind," she said. "I think today is the day I finally quit."

He glared at her and begrudgingly turned again to put the cigarettes back in the display. "Congratulations," he deadpanned. "That'll be $14.57."

She left the store trying not to grin like a Cheshire cat and enjoyed the last mile of her walk. She sipped the sweet liqueurs, whipping the empty, tiny plastic bottles into the late-summer, yellowed brush by the edge of the road. As she approached the motel she saw a familiar frame sitting on the trunk of the Impala, cooler on the ground and some sort of carryout container in his lap. She watched from a distance as she slowly approached. He worked a plastic fork into the food before bringing it to his lips and taking a huge bite. She saw him grin slightly to himself and wash whatever it was down with a large gulp of beer. She loved to see him happy and she felt her heart race slightly at the sight of it. He looked like a dream on that car, all blue jeans and tanned skin reflecting in the sunlight. Her mind conjured images of a prom she'd never known and making out on the backseat of classic cars. He looked up as he set the bottle down next to himself and gave her a big overhead wave with one hand. She saw him pull his cell phone out of his pocket and check it before replacing it, probably making sure he didn't miss her call. When she was close enough he shouted, "I thought you were going to call?"

She waited until she was speaking distance before responding. "I decided I'd like the walk." Nodding, he kicked open the cooler with his foot and reached down to grab a beer, handing it to her. "Thanks," she said as he closed the cooler and she jumped up to sit on the car with him.

"Want some pie?" he asked, his mouth full of his own bite as he offered his fork to her. She laughed a bit, looking at the half demolished pie set in the cardboard packaging from the grocery store. She smiled, taking the fork and digging in, not realizing how hungry she was since this morning's coffee and half a bagel had worn off.

After a few mouthfuls she returned the fork and washed her own bites down with the beer he'd provided. "Mmm, apple..." she said idly. She lent back on the trunk of the car, propping herself up on her elbows and tossing her hair back. Jane enjoyed the quiet peacefulness and was glad they weren't discussing the case at hand. She took another sip of the beer and pretended not to see the way Dean glanced her way out of the corner of his eye. He dug the fork back into the pie and turned to face her, the sticky mess poised on the tip of the fork and pointing towards her. She wordlessly accepted his offer, sitting up and letting him slide the oversize bite into her mouth. She smiled as he pulled the fork back and he returned the look with warmth. "Oh! That reminds me," she said, flailing a bit and grabbing the liquor store bag from her purse. She dug around in the bag and pulled out two miniature bottles, with apple pie scrawled underneath the brand.

Dean laughed and took one from her. "Okay, that's awesome," he smiled and she felt her pulse quicken slightly. They cracked them and brought the bottles to their lips. Jane let the liquid empty into her mouth as she swallowed and this time it was Dean's turn to pretend like she wasn't looking at him out of the corner of her eye. They were so good at this.

Dean dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and reached an arm around her. "What else do you have in this bag of tricks?" he teased, grabbing the brown paper bag from the other side of her. She heard the slight slur to his voice and knew he'd probably been out here a while. She chased the shot with a few more gulps of beer as Dean examined the contents of the bag. He pulled out a honey flavored whiskey and chuckled at her. "These are chick drinks." He cracked it and drank it down anyway.

"In case you haven't noticed, I am a chick."

"Trust me," he said, swigging from his beer bottle and pouting his alcohol moistened lips at her. "I've noticed."

"Oh, Dean," she said, shaking her head. She let her eyes glance over him again taking in his blue jeans and t-shirt. He was an image of James Dean blue collar cool and she found herself blushing away from him, turning her eyes to linger on the backseat of the Impala again.

"I know, I know. I'm breaking your rules," he scoffed. Adding in a mockingly serious voice, "Don't sleep with hunters." He wagged a finger at her and she rolled her eyes. "So run me through all your rules again? Because I'm sure I can find a loophole," he teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

She decided to indulge him, smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she started. "Right well, rule number one, don't sleep with hunters. Um, don't hunt with friends, so I guess you all have already ruined that one," she sighed, frowning slightly, not really wanting to continue or think about about the way that they had already made her break her rules. Or why she had her rules in the first place. "Also, never steal from people you know. Never eat egg salad from a gas station." Dean gave a short laugh at that one. "Don't do anal unless you love the person. And never fall in love." 

Dean nodded at her seriously and then turned to her pursing his lips. "Uhhh what was that second to the last?"

"Shut up, Winchester," she laughed and gave him a teasing push on the shoulder. 

"What about you?" she asked, stealing a sideways glance at him before looking away. "You take a sick day from the FBI today?"

He kicked open the cooler and grabbed another beer. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said twisting off the cap of the beer and whipping it in the air away from him.

"Why?"

He took several long gulps from the bottle. "Oh, no, sweetheart," he said. "I'll drink your chick drinks with you but we're not going to have a one-sided chick flick moment." He looked at her seriously, head tilted to the side, sizing her up. “I want a backstory,” he demanded.

She stared away from him, no longer wishing to meet his intense gaze. By a stroke of luck, a cream colored sedan was rolling into the parking lot at the same time. She didn’t recognize their faces but she could place the people. “Ok, how’s this for a back story,” she offered. The sedan parked and a middle age man in a suit exited from the driver’s side while a younger blonde, also in business attire, vacated the passenger’s seat. “They are sales reps for an energy drink company. But she has some shady dealings on the side. Seriously, she's like a dealer or a hooker or something because she had an obscene amount of cash in her room. Judging by the lack of cops and the fact they're stuck here, she probably didn't even miss what I took."

Besides her Dean laughed and looked at her affectionately. "You didn't take it all?" he asked.

"No, that'd be too obvious. Besides, I just needed a couple hundred, not a grand."

"And what about him?" Dean asked, looking at the older man who was fumbling with his key in the door.

Jane smiled, drinking the last of her beer, enjoying the steady buzz that was creeping into her brain. "Sexual deviant," she stated as he finally opened the door and entered his hotel room. She leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to Dean,"Half of his suitcase is full of women's underwear."

Besides her Dean gave an uncomfortable laugh. "That's funny. Deviant though...?" he trailed off, sipping his beer as a distraction.

"So what about you? Why no hunting today, Dean?" She asked looking at him.

"Nice try, Janie," he scoffed. "I wanted your back story though. You know how I got into hunting, but I really don't know anything about you." She nodded looking away. "So...tell me why you're a hunter and I'll tell you why I didn't go with Sammy today." He took her empty bottle and deposited it with his back into the cooler, picking up two more for them. He also closed up the pie and put it into the cooler as well. She knew he was serious if the pie was going away and took a shaky breath. She'd been avoiding his gaze, looking out over the parking lot and squinting into the sun as she picked at the label on the beer bottle. When she turned to face him again, she was startled to find him slightly closer to her, watching her intently.

"My family, foster family, were killed," she said. She took another few long gulps of beer, needing more liquid courage if he wanted her to continue. She could face down demons from hell without batting an eyelash but here she was, hands shaking and voice faltering as she spoke to her own demons.

"I'm sorry," Dean said softly and the pain in his eyes let her know he empathized.

"I was raised, uh, in a group home until I was 16," she admitted. "Group home makes it sound nice but it was really just an orphanage. I never knew my real dad. My mom didn't have any family so after the car crash..." Dean nodded, understanding. "Anyway, I was placed in foster care, who knows why, when I was 16. I think they got smart to my plans to run away." She cracked a half smile remembering. "My foster family was nice. They had several other children in their care. It must have been hard and we were all such assholes but they made it work. It was a good year."

She sighed and downed more of the beer, looking for the strength to continue. She felt Dean's hand tentatively reach out to the middle of her back, resting and squeezing slightly in encouragement or sympathy before quickly pulling away. She wished he'd put it back there for reassurance or comfort but said nothing, continuing with her story after another gulp of beer.

"Like I said, they were nice. Even took us camping. I was 17 then. The oldest out of the 5 kids. My foster sister was 15. Then there were the boys. Jake was 8, Tyler was 6 and Brendan..." She paused taking a shaky breath, "he was only 3." She felt her eyes beginning to burn with tears and tried not to picture their faces in her mind.

"When the wendigo came in the night," besides her Dean exhaled loudly and she saw him run a hand over his face. She knew he had a thing about kids but she pressed on. He had asked for this after all. "I thought it killed them all. But Jake, Tyler, me and our foster father ended up captive in the things lair. It killed our dad the next morning while we watched. And we figured it was only a matter of time before we met the same fate. I really didn't think I'd ever get out of there."

She took another long gulp, her freshest beer almost gone now too, and she fought back tears. "She was the last thing I expected to see. But when she showed up with moltovs flaming and makeshift flame throwers made out of hairspray cans," she actually chuckled at the memory of the oversize, neon purple cans of Aqua Net.

"She was a hunter," Dean said.

Jane nodded. "Her parents had been and she was raised in the life before her parents died." She finished her beer and Dean collected her empty. "She saved us. We made sure Jake and Tyler were safe. She was going to run away, keep hunting. And I went with her. She taught me everything I know." She sat forward slightly, wiping along the bottom of her eyes, still biting back the tears at the memories she always tried so hard to forget.

"What happened?" Dean asked, mirroring her position and looking down as well.

"What always happens." She looked at him darkly before shoving her hand back into the brown bag from the liquor store, coming back with something stronger than the beer that she began to sip.

"I'm so sorry," Dean said. "What was her name?" he asked, realizing she had omitted it.

She gave a breathy laugh that was more of a forceful exhale. She turned to look at him and saw his face was full of sorrow, just like hers, and she wondered how he was still capable of feeling so much when they should both be dead on the inside. "It was...Samantha," she admitted.

Dean nodded and encircled her in his arms, pulling her close and trying to comfort her. She felt the tears finally spill as she buried her face in his neck and gripped the t-shirt clinging to his back tightly. His head rested on hers and he pressed a kiss into her temple. She wished she could just disappear into her teenage dreams again. Her lips were pressed against his neck where she rested but she dared not move them, needing the embrace to last longer. She could feel his strong hands running up and down her back through her jacket and shirt and suddenly longed to be even closer. She twisted herself away and out of his embrace, inhaling deeply to calm herself and sniffling away her sobs as she wiped at her eyes again. "Fuck you, Winchester," she said, trying to play off her feelings. "Your turn."

He nodded, looking down at his beer bottle and running a nail under the label that was damp with condensation. "I didn't go to the morgue today because I didn't want to see the bodies," he admitted, turning his head still hung low to catch her reaction.

"Well yeah," she said. "I heard that through the motel wall, Dean." He raised an eyebrow and downed the rest of his beer. "C'mon, I just spilled my guys so you'll have to do better than that."

His eyes had been stealing occasional glances from her but she saw them determinedly look away, set somewhere in the distance and they glazed over somewhat. When he spoke it was unfeeling and monotone. "Before we met you, Sammy and I, we were in a bad spot. And, uh, I didn't make it out." He sighed, furrowing his brows and she could tell he was searching for the words to continue. "And, I went away for a long time. A really long time. Felt like a lifetime."

"Like, jail?" she asked, somewhat unclear.

Dean looked at her, pressing his lips together. "Yeah. Kind of like jail. But worse." He looked away from her again. "They, uh, we're big on the torture." She heard his voice crack and felt tears burning again at the sound. "Both doling it out and...making other people..." He hung his head in shame. "I've done unspeakable things," he said. "And sometimes, seeing those mutilated bodies at the morgue," he paused shaking his head like he was trying to get the image out, "it just brings it all back."

They were already near but Jane shifted closer to him, turning to face him but he wouldn't look her in the eye. "Dean..." she placed a hand on his shoulder and when he finally turned his head she could see the shame mixing with tears. "I'm so sorry."

He nodded, staring back at her. They stayed fixed, staring at each other. Their confessions hung in the air between them. The walls were down, cards on the table, and it felt like the weight that had been lifted off their shoulders was now settled in their bellies, eating away at them even more. Neither spoke or dared to move, afraid of breaking the moment. Her eyes left his just for a second, glancing down for the briefest moment to catch a glimmer of his soft, pink tongue darting out across his full bottom lip. That's all it took. In the next moment they were surging towards each other, lips colliding in desperation. Their mouths met and when she felt that swollen lower lip pressed between hers she ran her tongue over it, tasting the lingering notes of beer and liquor. He parted his lips, deepening their kiss as his tongue found hers and he pulled her closer to him and one of his hands grazed her hair. His kiss was intense and thorough and needy and she returned it with the same abandon. This was slower, more passionate, than their hurried make-out session a few nights prior. Each kiss, every brush of tongue, measured and planned like they'd been working up to this since they'd met.

All the barriers were down and their kisses weren't there to fix anything or rebuild two people who believed they were beyond repair. Each meeting of his lips against hers was just knocking down the rest of the rubble, rolling around in it like their tongues were rolling around in each others' mouths. There was nothing to mend or heal or fix, just want and need and desire. He pressed into her and she leaned back against the trunk to accommodate him, shifting uncomfortably as she did so. She thought about how much more comfortable they'd be in her backseat make-out fantasy. He broke away, pulling back and bringing her with him. "C'mon," he said, standing and holding her hand as she slunk off the trunk. All the alcohol they'd imbibed seemed to go straight to her head the second her feet hit the ground. She enjoyed the dizzying, numbing buzz. The moment her eyes found his again they were pressing together once more, mouths colliding as she wrapped her arms up and around his shoulders. He dipped down, kissing her deeply again and pressing her into the trunk of the car. He broke the kiss a second time, apparently remembering his original intent, and grabbed her hand, leading her to the rear door of the Impala.

He opened the door for her and she slid in, already knowing where this was going, no longer caring, because she needed this. A bigger force might be at play but this wasn't like Sam. They both wanted this and it'd been building up between them during the past few weeks. She'd been foolish enough to confide in him, she might as well give in and break all of her rules. At least this would be enjoyable. She pulled her jacket off, balling it against the far side door as he got in next to her and they maneuvered so they were lying down. His body felt so good pressing down on hers. His lips found hers again and she relished each languid kiss he bestowed her with. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tracing her fingertips along his hairline and making him sigh softly into her mouth. His tongue was soft and warm as it licked inside her mouth and she could feel her arousal growing.

Their bodies were a bit awkward in the backseat and she shifted, looping a leg around his hip to make room. He filled the space she left, pressing his groin into hers and she could feel his erection growing through his jeans as he ground down into her. He thrust against her and for a minute they were a cliched image of a horny backseat make-out session, all tongues and wandering hands and hips clashing together. He pulled back, wincing slightly and ran a hand over the front pocket of her jeans, using his thumb to push at the offending lump that was digging into him. She had totally forgotten about the lighter and watched his face as he examined the shiny metal device. "I lifted that for you today," she said softly and he smiled. "I know how you go through them." 

"Thank you," he whispered, and placed it object in his back pocket.

She smiled at him softly. He seemed so content and relaxed and she loved seeing him like this, off of the battlefield so to speak. She needed more though, wanted him so badly. and began to trace a hand under his shirt which he gladly removed for her. She paused when he did though. She realized she had never seen him shirtless before and was taken aback by the angry red scar across his bicep. "Dean...what happened?"

"Oh, yeah," he began, brows furrowing slightly and darkness clouding his features once again. She raised a hand to trace over the hand print on his skin, her own fingers dancing over mark. "That's from where I was saved." 

She was still hazy on where exactly Dean had been before she met him but if whatever saved him had left a mark like that, and it was a good thing, she couldn't imagine what it was like where he was. His eyes looked sad again and she longed to put the happiness back in them, make him feel better, feel whole again, but she had little to offer. She let him slide her own shirt off and met his mouth again as he pulled their bodies together. His skin was hot against hers and she arched into him, pressing her groin harder against his as he rocked against her. She just wanted that smile, that carefree look, back on his face and devilishly thought of a way to put it back there herself. Her tongue was pressing against his as they tasted each other and the familiar tang of alcohol, but she thought of using it elsewhere, wondered what the rest of his body tasted like. He thrust harder against her, and she could feel his erection pressing tightly against her center and eliciting her own pleasurable arousal. She wanted him so badly. 

He pulled back slowly, eyes darkened with lust and want, and licked his lips. "Will you..." he paused, looking down at her and ran a hand over a bra covered breast.

She pulled him back to her, not ready to lose the feel of his body against hers. "What?" she asked in a breathy voice.

His lips were at her neck, kissing behind her ear and seeking out whatever spots made her give quiet little moans. His request came out as a husky whisper against her skin. "Will you suck me off?"

She knew it was weird...that she was thinking it and he was asking for it, but she didn't care. That's all she wanted to do. "Yes, yes," she breathed back and both of their hands immediately went to his fly. There was a frenzied fumbling to get into his pants as their fingers fought over the belt and zip.

They were so wrapped up in a the moment and each other they didn't notice the figure approach the car window. When the three sharp knocks came at the window of the Impala both of them jumped and shook in a startled fear. Jane craned her neck around and Dean looked up quickly.

Sam looked pissed.


End file.
